to the Poet while he told them how he and the Lady of Fashion had spent their time as prisoners of the wild men. When he had finished, the little people sang songs, told stories and gossiped until after midnight, when the General ordered everyone to bed.

“It’s so nice to sleep in a clean, honest-to-goodness bed again,” said the Lady of Fashion when she crawled into one of the tiny cots in the nurses’ tent, but she didn’t sleep a great deal, for the three little women had so much to talk about. They whispered and giggled until early morning.

Chapter Twenty-Five THE PEACE DANCE

“Well, folks,” announced the General the next morning as he sat down to breakfast with several of his officers, the Lady of Fashion and the Poet, “we must make ready for the march home. We have a long journey ahead of us and we must get started as soon as possible.”

“I don’t see how we can,” answered the Doctor, who was helping himself to a piece of frog ham. “The Sailor is in no condition to be moved and, besides, I still have a couple of the wild men on my hands, who are in such shape I can’t leave them for a few days.”

“That’s so! That’s so!” exclaimed the General. “Of course we’ll have to stay until our duty is done.”

“My patients are all doing well and I don’t see why we won’t be able to get away in five or six days,” said the Doctor.

The little soldiers were greatly disappointed when they heard that the army would not start immediately for home, for now that the war was over they were all anxious to return. However, they made the best of their time by fishing, swimming and playing games.

One morning a sentinel came to the General’s tent, followed by one of the wild men.

“This fellow has a message for you,” said the sentinel pointing to the wild man, who held a piece of folded birch bark in his hand. “There are about twenty-five more of ’em waiting out beyond our lines and they’ve each got a big bundle all wrapped up in leaves.”

The General opened the note which the wild man handed him, but when he found it was written in the Sabo language he sent for the Poet.

“You’ll have to translate this gibberish for me,” said the General when the Poet appeared. “It’s too much for me.”

The Poet carefully read the note and then repeated it to the 

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